“Clear,” she whispered. Pushing the cover away, she scurried out onto the surface.
One by one, they all climbed out. Doric looked around. He recognized the place. They were at the rear of the Core Palace. Memories of his youth flashed in his mind, another time, and practically another place. Cassia and him looking for a private place to be together. Intila and him arguing over some insipid thing. His father watching over a parade in the main courtyard…
“Hey, move it!” Hagon spurred him, waking Doric from his reverie.
Venia led them to a small wooden door and pushed it open. Inside sprawled a large kitchen. Two cooks looked up at the newcomers, one stirring a boiling pot, the other peeling potatoes, but neither moved from their stations.
“Good afternoon,” Venia greeted.
“Afternoon,” the cook peeling potatoes replied slowly, frowning suspiciously.
Venia strode across the kitchen, stopped in front of large fruit basket, and picked it up. She turned to the cook peeling potatoes. “Orders from the Castellan.”
The cook shrugged and returned his attention to the potatoes. Trailing Venia, they left the kitchen and the cooks behind and found themselves in a narrow corridor lit by a couple of oil lamps hanging on the wall.
“This way,” Venia said, turning into the mouth of a staircase.
They climbed two flights of stairs and exited into a sumptuous hallway carpeted in red, paintings of members of the Imperial family hanging every couple of feet.
Andon whistled. “Damn. Right in the dragon’s lair, huh?”
“This is the Imperial family’s wing.” Venia motioned her head to her left, where the corridor turned left. “Cassia’s room is that way.”
At that precise moment, two Legionaries rounded the corner. The group froze. All except for Venia, who stepped happily towards the soldiers.
“Some fruit?” she asked.
The Legionaries stopped, inspecting the large basket in her hand.
“Who’s this for?” The visor of his helmet was raised, revealing a bushy moustache.
“The Empress.”
“Oh, I did hear she just returned.”
“She won’t miss a couple of apples,” Venia said, smiling.
“I suppose not.”
The soldiers helped themselves, thanked Venia with a wink, and marched away. When they were out of earshot, Hagon and Doric exhaled with relief.
“Everybody, relax,” Venia whispered. “I know what I’m doing, just follow my lead. Now, come on.”
They turned the corner the Legionaries had come from. The new corridor was a dead end. Three doors lined each side, and a seventh sat at the far end.
“Hold this,” Venia said, handing the fruit basket to Doric. She stepped to the second door on the right and retrieved the pin she kept hidden in the back of her hair. As she reached out, just about to slip the pin into the lock, the knob turned and the door opened, swinging inward.
Like a flock of startled birds, they all stepped back as a man walked through the door. He wore an Akhami robe, and the shaven top of his head gleamed under the corridor’s torchlight. He halted, surprised to find a wall of servants before him.
“Lord Castellan,” Venia said, lowering her head.
The others mimicked her, muttering out their own low chorus of, “Lord Castellan.”
His name was Sagun, Tarsus’ favourite sycophant. Doric would’ve recognized his black braid from a mile away. He made sure to keep his head low, the curls of his long hair covering his features.
“Fresh fruit for the empress.” Venia gestured towards the basket in Doric’s hand.
“By whose orders?”
“One of the handmaids, My Lord,” Venia replied. “Lady Jahssica.”
Sagun studied the group for a moment, brows pulling together as his eyes narrowed. He reached for Venia’s chin and lifted her head. “I know you… You’re no maid! You’re that—”
The Castellan never finished his sentence. Emrys grabbed his neck and he fell lifelessly to the floor.
“Oh, thank the goddess,” the mage breathed. “I was so sure he’d have a Syphon.”
“You have got to let that go, Emrys.” Venia grabbed Sagun’s legs. “Help me with this.”
As Emrys knelt to pick up the Castellan’s arms, Doric shoved the fruit basket into Hagon’s hands and burst into the room.
“Cassia?” he called, eyes swinging from one side of the room to the other. “Cassia!”
The room was empty, its large bed untouched.
Venia and Emrys stepped inside, hauling Sagun’s body between them, the others streaming in behind them.
“She’s not here,” Doric said, frustration seeping into his voice.
Venia dropped the Castellan’s legs, dumping him on the floor, and Emrys did the same.
“We keep searching, then,” the spy said.
“Where next?” Debra asked.
Venia took a deep breath. “She just returned to the Citadel… my best guess is Tarsus’ room.”
Doric was positively sure he was going to be sick right then and there. “I really wish I’d brought my father’s sword…”
Debra reached inside her dress and drew a knife, which she handed to Doric. “Here.”
With a nod, Doric took the weapon, his clammy hands wrapping around the hilt.
“Let’s go.” Venia strode to the door, checked if the coast was clear, then walked out. Approaching the door at the very end of the corridor, Venia placed an ear to its wooden surface. “I don’t hear anything,” she whispered.
Doric’s heart seemed to slow down a little from its anxious gallop.
Venia used her hair pin on the door’s lock, the mechanism sliding into place with barely an audible click. She opened the door and they all poured inside, freezing after just a couple of paces.
Both Cassia and Tarsus were inside. The empress was tied to one of the bed’s poles by her wrists, her mouth gagged. The emperor sat on a large chair in a far corner of the room, staring vacantly at a blank spot on the floor. At the sight of them entering the room, Cassia’s eyes went wide, and she wriggled in her bonds, but Tarsus remained perfectly still as if he was not even aware of their presence.
Doric rushed to Cassia, using his knife to cut the ropes binding her. “Are you alright? What did he do to you? I swear to the Goddess I’ll kill him.”
With her hands free, Cassia removed the gag from her mouth and gasped in a breath. “We have to get out of here. Quickly. We need to go!”
“Did he hurt you?” Doric asked, a finger aimed at the emperor. “Did he touch you?”
“You don’t understand. It was wasn’t Tarsus, it was—”
A side door to the room opened, stopping Cassia mid-sentence. A man in a dark blue robe stepped inside, his black hair combed back. “I thought I heard something,” he said, addressing those gathered in the room with a condescending sneer. “Quite a rescue party we have here.”
Debra, Andon, and Hagon all drew knives from under their clothes.
“Who are you?” Andon asked the robed man.
“I am Vigild. Lord Chancellor of the Empire.” He walked calmly to Tarsus’ side, placing a hand on the emperor’s shoulder. “I administer the land on behalf of his Imperial Majesty.”
Tarsus looked up at his touch. “Vigild,” the Emperor croaked weakly. “My wife has returned.”
“What the…” Doric mumbled.
“Indeed, Your Highness,” Vigild said. “Just as I had promised you.”
Tarsus smiled. “She loves me. Just as you promised me.”
“Merciful mother…” Debra drew Ava’s Dawnstar on her forehead, taking a step back.
“You all need to run,” Emrys said, stepping between Vigild and the group.
Vigild flicked a finger, the room’s door closing behind them with a sharp bang. “No one’s going anywhere.”
Emrys spread his arms, a blue blaze wrapping around him. He made a downward gesture with both hands, like pulling on two ro
pes, and the ceiling above Tarsus and his Chancellor collapsed, burying them in a cloud of stone and dust. He then turned to the door, extending a palm toward it. It exploded outward into the corridor in a thousand splinters. “I said run!”
* * *
Horns blared from afar, calling the retreat. Fadan turned and saw one of his men running an enemy Legionary through with his sword, the last of Intila’s troops atop the battlement. He fell backwards, tumbling down the wall.
“Victory!” a captain shouted.
“VICTORY!” the rest of the soldiers cried.
Fadan did not join in the celebration. He was covered in sweat and blood and would’ve been too out of breath to shout anything even he wanted to. In the city, three massive fires raged, the result of enemy projectiles that had missed their targets.
As a Lieutenant walked past the Prince, Fadan reached out and grabbed the man’s arm. “Lieutenant, I want you to find General Vardrada. Tell her I’m ordering all militia down from the wall. They’re to be tasked with putting out those fires. Do you understand?”
The man smashed a fist against his chest. “Yes, Your Majesty!”
“Go.”
The man marched away. This had been the third assault of the day. Intila had been averaging around five a day for the past week, and Fadan had personally led the fight against every single one. All of his muscles burned. He felt more tired than he thought a human could ever be. Still, the fact that they were still standing after so many attacks had improved the overall morale.
What the troops failed to see, however, was that Intila had only been prodding them. Attacking with small forces only. Whittling their defences slowly, bit by bit, until the moment he felt ready for a final, grand assault.
When that moment finally came, the defenders wouldn’t stand a chance.
Fadan looked around. Some of the soldiers were still celebrating, but the wounded were now being carried away. His numbers kept growing thinner, and no one was coming to help.
Where are you, mom? I really need you to hurry. I don’t know how many more of these victories I can take.
* * *
Cassia climbed down the ladder so fast she nearly fell from the slippery iron rungs. As she landed in the sewer, she covered her nose with a sleeve in a feeble attempt to shield herself from the foul smell.
“Okay, I think we can slow down now,” Andon said. “There’s no way that creepy guy survived that collapse.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Emrys told him. “Come on.” He strode away, following the path they’d come through on their way in, the group following on his heels.
“Are you serious?” Andon’s steps slowed, lagging a little behind. “Did you see how much stone you buried him under? The Emperor and the Chancellor are gone. Period. And I for one need to—”
He trailed off midsentence.
Cassia and the others turned around to find Andon frozen in place, his eyes wide with surprise. In his chest, a hole smouldered where his heart should be.
Cassia gasped.
“Andon!” Debra yelped, darting towards him.
A green bolt of energy shot through the tunnel, hitting Debra’s forehead. She fell, landing on her back without a sound.
Two more bolts shot out of the darkness at the end of the tunnel, but this time Emrys raised a shield, the volleys disintegrating against his translucent barrier.
Vigild stepped out of the shadows, his steps echoing in the tunnel. A line of blood trickled down his left temple, but he was otherwise unhurt. “My apologies, Imperial Majesty, but the Emperor is so much more pliable when you’re around. So, I’ll be needing you to remain with us. Don’t worry, though.” He smiled, a vicious thing with too many teeth. “It won’t be for much longer.”
“I’ll hold him,” Emrys said, his hands already in the air, ready for another attack.
It came right away. Vigild shot a stream of red energy from his palms, like a jet of molten lava. The spell crashed against Emrys’ shield with a sound like that of water hitting a hot pan, and the mage fell to his knees, beads of sweat running freely down his forehead.
“Go! Hurry!” Emrys said, gritting his teeth.
“Wait, there’s a faster way out.” Venia indicated the river of sludge running alongside them.
The current was strong, and it disappeared through a hole in the wall wide enough for two people to pass through abreast.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Hagon asked.
“You think it’s safe up here?” Venia retorted.
“Hurry!” Emrys pleaded. His barrier was flickering like the flame of a candle under too much wind.
“Just go!” Venia jumped in the water, disappearing under the dark surface.
Doric and Cassia exchanged a look.
“I hope all of you can hold your breath for a really long time,” Hagon said, then jumped in after the spy.
“Go on,” Doric told Cassia. “I’m right behind you.”
With a nod, Cassia dove in, and Doric approached Emrys, grabbing hold of the back of the mage’s collar.
“What are you doing, you damn idiot?” Emrys protested.
“I’m dragging you with me.”
“No! Stop, you—” Doric jumped sideways, pulling the mage in with him, and Emrys’ words were lost as the water closed over their heads.
Doric kicked as hard as he could, the current helping him forward. Though the dark, murky water, he saw the round opening of the tunnel. He heard a faint boiling sound over the rush of the water in his ears, and a red light glowed above his head.
He finally reached the tunnel, and just as he steered himself into the opening, a red beam of energy blasted past him, and searing pain shot from his back and through his chest.
* * *
Cassia slid down the tunnel fast, weak sunlight shining from the opening ahead. She kicked and clawed, trying to slow down, but the surface of the tunnel was too slippery for her to find purchase anywhere. The tunnel came to an end, and Cassia’s stomach lurched as she dropped about ten feet, splashing into the river below.
When Cassia breached the surface, she saw Venia squatting on a wooden pier, hand held out to her. They were in the docks district. It was getting dark, the sky above having turned into a grey slab.
The empress accepted her friend’s help and climbed onto the platform. Just as she did, a scream announced Hagon’s arrival. He shot out of the sewage exit even faster than Cassia had, splashing into the surface of the river like a boulder. He resurfaced shortly after, gasping for air, and the two women helped him out of the water.
The three of them waited in silence, a puddle of water collecting around their feet. What was taking Doric and Emrys so long?
There was a rumbling sound, and a shadow shot out of the tunnel, splashing into the river below. Cassia rose up on the tips of her toes as if that would allow her to see through the darkened water of the Saffya.
Someone broke the surface and started swimming toward the shore. No, not someone. Two people.
No!
Emrys swam toward them, dragging Doric’s lifeless body along through the water.
“No, no, no…”
Venia and Hagon knelt, pulling Doric up, then helping Emrys climb onto the platform.
“What happened?” Cassia asked, scared. She knelt by her husband, cupping his pale face with trembling hands. “Doric? Doric?” She slapped his cheeks gently.
“Here, let me.” Venia turned Doric’s head to one side, a small trickle of water running out of his mouth. She pinched his nose, opened his mouth, then exhaled into his open mouth. Taking a deep breath, she repeated the process. Then again. And again.
Doric remained motionless.
Cassia covered her mouth, a sob breaking through. “Oh, Goddess, please, no…”
Taking another deep breath, Venia exhaled into his mouth. One. Two. Three. Four. She placed her ear near Doric’s mouth, waited a couple of breaths, and once more breathed into his mouth. One. Two. Thr
ee—
Doric jerked upward, coughing up water and gasping desperately for air.
“Oh, thank the Goddess!” Cassia wrapped her arms around Doric, squeezing tight.
“Ah, Cassia!” Doric grimaced. “Ouch.”
“What? What is it?” the Empress asked, pulling away.
Carefully, Doric peeled away his shirt, revealing a cauterized wound an inch beneath his collarbone.
“He’s lucky to be alive,” Emrys said. “Damn fool almost died trying to save my life.”
Doric grinned smugly. “A very successful attempt, I would say.”
“Not bad for a coward,” Hagon told him with a wink.
“Watch it. I have a reputation to maintain.” He looked up at Cassia and smiled wide. In return, she planted a long kiss on his lips.
“We should get out of here,” Venia said. “Before that thing finds us.”
Emrys nodded and reached into his tunic, retrieving his portable hypervisor. “And I need to contact my superiors.” He looked up. In the distance, the Citadel loomed. “They must be told that the Empire has fallen.”
* * *
Fadan halted his horse, quickly dismounting. “What’s happening? I came as fast as I could.”
Arch-Mage Persea stood before the northern gate of the city wall. If Ragara had a main site of congregation, this was it. A collection of high-ranking mages stood behind her, their hoods pulled up over their heads.
“Wait…” Fadan said. “You’re leaving?”
“Not exactly, no. Are you familiar with the saying, ‘be careful what you wish for’?”
The Prince nodded.
“Well, it would seem you’re getting what you wished for.”
Only then did Fadan notice the stream of dozens and dozens of mages climbing the stairs to the ramparts around them.
Persea waved an arm, and the main gate opened with a groan. “High-Wizard Talladin,” she called.
“Yes, Arch-Mage?”
“Initiate the mind pairing.”
The Shadow Of Fallen Gods Page 40
